


bittersweet

by windigo (abandoned1827)



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: F/M, Gen, last night at training
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-05
Updated: 2013-08-05
Packaged: 2017-12-22 13:34:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/913790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abandoned1827/pseuds/windigo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sasha and Connie spend the last night of training together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	bittersweet

**Author's Note:**

> ok so there are slight manga spoilers here but you won't get it unless you know them? so yeah. they're not a big deal tbh  
> but yeah, this is about implications and last nights and whatnot ):  
> 

The night hadn’t been this quiet since _that_ day; perhaps it was because tomorrow would decide if they wanted to face a thousand more like it. The sound of torches flickering had long since faded, and the subsequent sizzling of ashes had stopped, too. Even the comforting smell of smoke was faint.

The silence was not because everyone was asleep. It was because they were all awake.

If anyone was with their friends, it wasn’t obvious – nobody spoke. Their belongings, not that they had accumulated many over their three years of training, were packed away in boxes. Every pair of eyes in the room was open.

Connie Springer waited, sitting upright in his bunk – the bottom bunk – and remembered with distaste his promise to himself that he would grow enough to have to crane his neck whilst sitting in his bed. Three years later, his head didn’t even come close to brushing the top bunk.

The deep pit of worry in his stomach bubbled and shifted uneasily, and his fingers clenched the unmade sheets of his bed.

There was a knock on the window, and the corresponding sound of sheets rustling as people turned instinctively to see what was going on.

Only when they turned back, satisfied that it was nothing important, could Connie stand up, and open the stiff window.

“I though you weren’t going to open it,” Sasha whispered, as she boosted herself off the ground and through the small gap quietly.

Connie let her hold onto his shoulder to regain some balance, and shut the window once she was standing on her own two feet.

“Did anyone see you leave?” Connie asked, trying to keep his voice down (even though everyone in the room probably knew what was going on).

“Ymir,” Sasha replied.

Of course she would. The irritation caused by thinking of Ymir would show on Connie’s face, but it was too dark for Sasha to notice.

“She just let you go?”

“She was with Christa.”

Connie smirked knowingly, but felt guilty for doing so, and stopped.

He didn’t like the dark. Not when he was with Sasha, or anyone he cared about. It was dishonest. The best parts of conversations were the expressions a person made, whether it was a smile or a funny face. Expressions said more about a person than words ever could.

Sasha sat down first, ducking her head to fit in the bunk. It was a platonic move; it had been every time. Connie followed, and leant over to light the small candle he had been allowed to keep.

“Don’t waste your candle for this!” Sasha scolded, but looked more concerned than annoyed.

“It’s not wasting, numbnuts. It’s our last night.”

“Oh. Oh yeah.”

She giggled at that, and so did he.

The torchlight was warm, and cast a dim orange tint over them both, highlighting her cheekbones and her nose and her eyes and her hair (she always was pretty).

“Does my head reflect the light?” he asked, waggling his eyebrows faux-suggestively.

She snorted. “Connie!”

“Come into the light, Sasha,” he repeated, playing it up.

“Connie!” she said again, letting herself laugh openly. Nobody hushed them. They all knew why she was here, why the two of them were up talking again.

“Let the baldness entrance you; give in to the holy shine.”

“Oh my god, Connie, stop!”

They were in hysterics at that point, trying desperately to keep quiet, but also trying to make the most of every moment.

They calmed down after a while, and their stomachs hurt from laughing so much.

He noticed, after a short while, that other people had started to whisper amongst themselves, too.

“I brought food,” Sasha announced, and reached into the pocket of her nightgown.

He watched as she brought out a paper package and opened it. In it was a steamed potato, and a small chocolate cake.

“Where did you get that?” Connie asked, in hushed tones, pointing at the cake.

“The Scouting Legion’s here; I don’t know why,” she explained, breaking it in half. “But they always have loads of stuff. It was that short guy’s bag that had the jackpot in it.”

Connie deadpanned. “Please tell me you didn’t steal my own cake from me.”

Sasha shook her head indignantly. “No! If you think that lowly of me, I won’t share it with you.”

It was ironic that she expected him to think of her as a model citizen when the food wasn’t even hers. “Then whose was it?”

“I can’t remember his name. Everyone knows about him, though. You know; the angry one.”

“Eren?” Connie did not know for the life of him who Sasha meant.

“Eren’s taller than you! I mean, he’s…he’s the spinny one that hates kids.”

“Levi?”

Sasha slapped her knee excitedly, in an oddly country folk-like gesture (except it wasn’t odd, because she told him why ages ago). “That’s him!”

Connie frowned. “He hates everyone; not just kids.”

Sasha waved her hand. “Same difference!”

“Hold on a second. You stole from _Lance Corporal Levi_ , humanity’s greatest soldier?” he asked incredulously. “How did you do that?”

“He wasn’t there,” Sasha admitted. “He just left his bag on his horse.”

Connie sighed, and picked up a bit of cake. “If it’s his, it might be laced with poison.”

“We’re supposed to be okay with stuff like that! We’re soldiers, for crying out loud. What about tomorrow? Poison, titans…they do the same thing, right?”

It was supposed to be a joke, but it was too high-pitched, too blurted out.

Silence enveloped them again.

The torch flickered quietly.

“Sorry,” she said.

“It’s alright.”

There were a few beats of uncomfortable silence, before she picked up her half of the cake, and sniffed it, much to Connie’s alarm. “Hmm.”

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Checking for poison,” she answered, and inhaled again.

Her eyes suddenly widened, and she started coughing violently, arms flailing.

“ _Shit!_ Sasha, crap, crap–”

He whacked her on the back, once, twice, but she was still coughing. He started to shake her, instead.

“Don’t die, Sasha! You can’t leave me alone in this mess–”

She started shaking her head rapidly, and sat up straight. He didn’t move his hands from her shoulders.

“Are you alright?” he hissed.

She gulped, and nodded. “Some crumbs went up my nose.”

“You _idiot!_ ” he snapped, but there was no anger behind it – only relief, flooding through his body. “Sasha, you are the _worst_.”

“I think you mean _best_ ,” she responded, and shovelled her entire slice of cake in her mouth.

He watched in amazement, as a look of contentment spread across her face. “Yeah. I do.”

She smiled in that _way_ she does, her eyes sleepy, trying to keep her mouth shut, so as not to show him what a chewed up piece of cake looked like.

He picked a bit off his own slice of cake. God, it was great.

“Good?” she asked, through her mouthful.

“Good,” he confirmed, and ate another bit of cake.

She raised the potato. “This symbolises our first day of training! It’s beautiful. Are you ready to eat it?”

He gave her a look. “I’m not even finished with my cake yet!”

“Eat faster,” Sasha demanded.

“No! I like to savour the good things,” he declared.

He had let three years run past him in a second, but neither of them addressed that.

When he finally finished the cake, she hurried to split the potato in half.

“This feels religious,” Connie muttered.

“It is,” Sasha said, and handed him the potato, which was still, miraculously, warm.

They ate in silence. Food was worth a lot, especially now, especially with Sasha.

“You’re like Keith,” she pointed out. “You’re bald and you get half a potato.”

Connie wrinkled up his nose. “Say that again and I’ll make you run for five hours.”

She smiled wryly and sat back, leaning against the wall.

Connie scanned the room – several beds were empty. He couldn’t recognise whose, but he didn’t want to think about it.

“Hey, what’s this?” she asked. Whatever it was made a crumpling noise as she picked it up.

He frowned. “Uh,” he said, squinting at it. It was paper, with a load of basic training rules written on it. “Oh! I found it while I was packing, and I wanted to show you…”

He turned it over, and she let out a small cry of recognition and happiness.

It was a drawing they had done when they first joined up. A drawing of the entire 104th Trainees Squad – except they were all old.

Eren had a little speech bubble above him saying “I’m a grumpy old man” (they were clearly comedy geniuses three years ago), and they themselves were the cool old people, donning ‘cool’ hats and carrying walking sticks instead of the 3D maneuver gear blades.

“I remember this!” she said, pointing at various figures.

Ymir was a wrinkly old bag in it – they were both intimidated by her, even three years ago, and this was the only way they could rebel.

“Ymir,” they both said at the same time, and burst out laughing.

The drawings themselves weren’t funny. They were just filled with so many memories that it was a lot better than every cheap joke they had collectively cracked.

“Look at Marco and Jean,” Sasha said excitedly, and Connie squinted to see that they were playing what looked like golf. Written on Marco’s top was the word ‘old’, and on Jean’s, ‘friends’. Old friends.

There was a stifled sob from across the room, momentarily ripping them out of their fantasy. Was that…was that Jean?

And then it came crashing down on them, the power of reality, a brick for every dead human; a tonne’s worth.

“This is our last night here,” Sasha whispered, quiet again.

Where was she going with that?

“Yeah.”

More silence.

“Have you ever…” he began.

“What?” she interrupted, too hastily.

He struggled to find the words. “Did you ever have a…a _boyfriend_ while you were here? Or a, you know, a girlfriend?”

Sasha paused. “No. Did you?”

“No,” he told her. “I regret it.”

The air was tense. Neither of them said a thing, as they both became very aware of the small amount of space between them, making and breaking eye contact–

And then their lips were pressed together. It was hard to tell who made the move.

It didn’t feel passionate, or even revelatory. It just felt…sad.

They both inched backwards, so their lips were no longer touching – was a kiss the right thing to call something like that?

“I–”

The door banged open, and they immediately lay down flat. The air rushing in from the door being opened blew the candle out. It was nearly a puddle of wax, anyway.

“Go the fuck to sleep,” Keith growled, but it lacked intensity or even anger.

Connie breathed heavily, only able to see the glint in Sasha’s eyes, and the faint outline of her form.

Keith didn’t say anything else. The door shut with a much quieter, more considerate click.

“Do you think he saw me?” Sasha muttered.

The moment was gone.

Connie thought for a moment. “Yeah.”

“Why didn’t he say anything?”

“Because he understands.”

They would’ve normally made a joke out of something like that, something so ridiculously _soppy_ and inappropriate for someone like _Keith_ , but in all honesty, neither of them felt inclined to do so.

“Connie?” Sasha said again, breath cool on his face.

“What?” he asked, watching as she closed her eyes, expression strained.

“I’m scared.”

And he could’ve said something cliché, something bullshit. He could’ve, _should’ve_ played the hero, or said nothing.

But instead, he shut his eyes, and said;

“I am, too.”


End file.
